workings of conscience, the conviction of sin, or the delirious raptures of newborn hope.

The preachers were, for the most part, men, whose dress and air bespoke a low origin, and narrow circumstances. Conspicuous among them was a stout old man, whose gray hair and compressed lips, ensconced between a long nose and hooked chin, could hardly have escaped observation under any circumstances. He alone was on his feet, and moved about the platform with a noiseless step, speaking in whispers to one or another of the preachers. At length he took his seat, and the officiating minister rose. He was a tall, slender youth, whose stripling figure lost nothing of its appearance of immaturity by being dressed in clothes which he had obviously outgrown. The bony length of naked wrist and ankle set off to the best advantage his broad hands and splay feet, the heels of which were turned out, as he moved forward to his place in front of the platform. His nearly beardless face was embrowned by the sun, his features were diminutive, and only distinguished by a full round forehead, and a hazel eye, clear, bright, and imaginative. He gave out a hymn, which was sung, and then offered up a prayer, which, though apparently meant to pass for extemporaneous, was obviously spoken from memory, and made up, for the most part, of certain forms of speech, taken from all the prayers and all the creeds that have ever been published, and arranged to suit the taste of the speaker, and

Then came
It was a

the peculiar doctrines of his sect. another hymn, and then the sermon. doctrinal essay, a good deal after the manner of a trial sermon, in which not a little acuteness was displayed. But the voice was untrained, the language ungrammatical, the style awkward, and the pronunciation barbarous. The thing went off heavily, but left on my mind a very favourable impression of the latent powers of the speaker. But he was not (to use the slang of the theatre) "a star." He was heard with decorous but drowsy attention, and took his seat, without having excited a shout or a groan. I could not help suspecting that the poor young fellow, being put forward as a foil for some popular declaimer, had had his discourse pruned of all exuberance of language or fancy, and reduced to a mere hortus siccus of theological doctrine. A closing prayer by an old minister, in which the effort of the "young brother" was complimented with a patronising air, was followed by another hymn, and the temporary dispersion of the assembly.

In the mean time the keen eye of Balcombe had discovered Montague, seated, with bare and bowed head, directly in front of the preacher, and listening with every mark of devout humility. He rose with the rest, and, with folded arms, walked apart, as in profound meditation. He joined none of the parties that flocked to the tents for refreshment, but, as if unconsciously, strayed into the wood. There was doubtless little of hypocrisy in his air

of abstraction and thoughtfulness. But how few of those who saw him guessed the nature of his thoughts?

I saw that Balcombe kept his eye upon him, and followed him at a cautious distance, accompanied by James Scott. At length seeing Montague detached from the crowd, they quickened their pace and joined him. He made a sudden stop and drew back, but soon moved on again, and the three disappeared together in the wood. I was much inclined to follow; but Balcombe's movements were all so indicative of some precise plan, that I feared to thwart it by my presence. Had he had occasion for me, he would have told me so. I endeavoured, therefore, to amuse myself with the strange anomalous scenes around me, until the service of the day was renewed.

Now came the turn of the old minister I first described. The audience had been wearied with a discourse not at all to their taste. They were now refreshed, and eager for some stimulus to help digestion. At first, I thought they would be disappointed; for he talked for a long time in a dull, prosing way, about himself, and the church, and was listened to with an air, which led me to conclude that he had established a sort of understanding with his hearers, that whatever he might say must be worth hearing, and taken with thankfulness. At length, however, he seemed to warm by slow degrees; his voice became louder, his utterance more rapid, his gestures more carnest;

and an occasional groan from the crowd bespoke their awaking sympathy. Presently he began to catch his breath, to rant and rave and foam at the mouth, and to give all the conventional tokens of enthusiasm and eloquence. The signals were duly answered by the groans, the sobs, the cries, the shouts, the yells of the multitude: some sprang to their feet and clapped their hands; some grasped the hands of others, with smiles and tears of sympathy and mutual gratulation; some fell down, and were hoisted over into the pen, where they lay tossing among the straw, and uttering the most appalling shrieks. The discourse was abruptly closed; and several of the preachers came down into the enclosure, and kneeling among the prostrate penitents, poured forth prayer after prayer, and shouted hymn after hymn, in which the whole audience joined in one wild burst of discord, broken down into harmony by the very clashing of jarring sounds.

The sun went down on this tumultuous scene, of which I could not foresee the termination; and, having lost my dinner, I found it high time to secure my supper by returning to Colonel Robin

son's.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A sordid wretch,

Who but of fears knows no control.

He shamed not, loud to moan and howl,
His body on the floor to dash,

And crouch like hound beneath the lash.

SCOTT.

I FOUND Balcombe already at home and in high spirits. I saw that he had been successful in the operations of the day, and was impatient to know particulars.

"How have you sped ?" said I, in a low voice. "Well," said he; "excellent well. I will tell you all after supper."

But supper passed, and he rattled on till bedtime, talking, as usual, of everything and nothing, according to the humour of the moment. At length the ladies withdrew, when he turned to the colonel, and said,

"Come, sir, we must not keep you up. Napier and I have matters to talk over; and we must send James to bed, and have our conference here. So good-night, my dear boy. Good-night, colonel."